by Ava Miles
She scowled. “Well, Maven said something to him about knights and castles—don’t ask—and that helped him deal. Still looks over his shoulder, but so do I.”
“And that just chaps your hide, right?”
She didn’t have to ask which part. “Look, we’re not going to agree on this.”
Those intense brown eyes—so like hers—studied her face. “I know, which is why I haven’t mentioned this before. I understand some of your resistance after Dad, but it’s hurting Keith. We saw Mac last night at the ice cream shop. Keith wanted to say hello, but he said he wasn’t sure you’d like it. He asked me to call and ask you.”
Shame poured over her like hot syrup. “Which you didn’t do.”
His face softened. “I didn’t think there was any need. He’s a nice guy, Peg, and Keith likes him. He needs as many men in his life as he can get without his dad around. We both know he’s starved for it.”
She gripped her knees to keep from lashing out.
Her brother raised a hand. “I’m not saying this to put your back out of line, but it’s true. Frank’s a dick, and all he’ll ever do for Keith is send a few child support payments after you press him. The Hales and Brian love him, but there’s no reason to limit the people in his life, is there?”
Her fingernails scraped her tan uniform slacks. “I don’t want him confused by all this poker stuff. It’s a bad influence.”
He didn’t say anything for long while. Just continued studying her in that X–ray–vision way of his. “We both know that’s not the issue here. He’s nothing like our fuck of a father, Peg.”
She stood. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
His brows only rose.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll try to be more reasonable. I don’t want Keith to get upset, and I know he has been. But I’m not going to ease up on Maven.”
He came over and rubbed her arms, which were locked in place at her side. “Okay, I’ll let this go for now, but you know this thing between you and Mac will only get worse, right? The harder you fight it, the bigger it will get.”
Her eyes narrowed. Her brother truly did have X–ray vision. “Leave it alone.”
“I’m not sure either of you has a choice. Okay, changing subjects. David is talking about coming for a visit. What are you going to do then?”
“Take a vacation?” she quipped while the old pain seared through her. Their younger brother had followed in their dad’s drinking shoes, covering the family in his shit more than once. Tanner had just finished scraping off a fresh batch involving Meredith, but David was in AA again, so the two of them were talking. Peggy couldn’t face him yet. They’d been best friends when they were kids, but then he’d started drinking in high school. Each time he got sober, he’d just fall off the wagon again. It had happened more times than she could count. The hurt and disappointment had unhinged her, so she’d closed it off.
“He still loves you, Peg, and he’s not Dad. I know the difference.”
Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. “It hurts too much.” Hard to confess to herself, let alone him.
His sigh gusted out. “Okay, when you want to talk about it, let me know.”
Her nod was perfunctory. “I’m going to see Arthur.” She turned to leave.
“You mad at me?” Tanner asked.
Her throat cramped like a suspect was strangling her. She coughed. “Yeah.” She lifted her tense shoulders. “Sort of.”
He sighed and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you mad, but seeing tears in Keith’s eyes last night upset me. I thought about it and decided I needed to say something.”
Her clasp was a stiff as dress blues. “I’ll take care of it.”
He chucked her under the chin like he used to when she was a kid. “I know you will. You always do the right thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “So do you.”
“Yeah, it’s still part of our rebellion. Dad never did, and we hated it, so we do the opposite.”
Her stomach gurgled at the mention of their father. She put a hand to it. “Must be hungry.”
“Yeah, must be. I’ll see you guys tomorrow night at your house for dinner. Do you want us to bring anything special?”
She liked these monthly family get togethers that everyone took a turn hosting, but it was still weird coordinating a potluck. Did she look like she cared if someone wanted to bring pasta salad or regular salad? Jeez. “I’ve already talked to Meredith about it.”
“Okay. Enjoy your day. Watch out for any wild moose.”
Her mouth tipped up, but the smile immediately fell flat when she left the room.
She breathed out a sigh of relief when she walked past Meredith’s office. Empty. She really liked her sister–in–law, but she didn’t feel like chatting now.
Arthur Hale’s office stood in the center of the paper. She liked that he didn’t need a window. The clutter of newspapers and chewed–up pencils on his scuffed–up desk made her smile. He had his back to her and was leaning toward the computer screen on the wall–length console.
She walked up behind him. “Hello there,” she said awkwardly.
He jumped in his chair and swung those faded blue–jeans eyes at her. “Peggy! What are you doing? Trying to give an old man a heart attack? Didn’t you see my AARP sticker on the door?” He huffed and puffed like the wolf in the Three Little Pigs story she used to read to Keith.
“Sorry. You were…” She waved at the computer. “Engrossed.”
“Yeah, dammit. I can’t find my reading glasses. Ticks me off. I think Meredith hid them to get back at me for all the red marks on her Sunday editorial. Man, that girl can hold a grudge. Don’t get on her bad side. Ask Tanner. Or Jill.” He dug out a red hot. “Want one?”
She grabbed it suspiciously. Wasn’t cinnamon supposed to be brown? Still, she popped it in her mouth. The burning flavor had her eyes watering.
“You should see your face.” He laughed. “Take a seat. Please. Did you stop by to see Tanner?”
She eyed the door and went ahead and shut it. When she took her seat, he waggled his brow.
“I haven’t heard anything of interest on the police scanner this morning. You didn’t come across another moose, did you?”
“For crying out loud, are people ever going to let that go?”
“Heck no. It’s one of the strangest stories in Dare, hands–down. Gossip can’t compete. Would you rather hear about who parked in your neighbor’s garage last night or a crazed moose?”
She crossed her arms. “People need to get a life.”
“I expect so.” He leaned toward her over his desk. “So, why did you close the door? My heart pumps harder when people do that.”
Her toes scrunched in her shoes. “Well…I wanted to talk about the possibility that we might help each other on something.”
The room filled with the crackling of a plastic wrapper as he slowly unwrapped a red hot. “That’s pretty vague. Care to be more specific?” His lips twitched, but he leaned back in his chair. A squeak erupted, making her ear drums wince.
She tried to keep a straight face. “It’s about Maven.”
His mouth moved like he was fighting a smile. “Ah…”
Her toes stopped dancing. “Okay, you don’t need to use that tone. This is purely investigative. I was hoping we could make a pact or something… You know, if one of us uncovers something questionable about him or his background, we can share it with each other.”
“Struck out with the 1931 murder, did ya?”
Her mouth parted.
“Please, even I knew you were looking into that. Heard you were checking to see if there were any old skeletons on the property.”
“Who told you?”
He chewed on the end of a pencil. “Someone I play Bingo with. Okay, let’s be honest. You’re only doing this because you want to stop Mac Maven.”
His bulls–eye made the space between her shoulder blades itch. “His hotel passed the
council.”
He pointed his pencil in her direction. “And yet, here you are, talking about digging into his background and sharing information with me if I agree to do the same. And in your spare time, I might add. Like a single mom has any.”
“Are you saying you won’t use something if I find it?”
He threw the pencil down. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “If you find something on Maven or the hotel, I’ll print it—after it’s been confirmed. It’s my business. But this topic gives me heartburn. My granddaughter works for the man. The Hale’s can usually be neutral, but not Jill—she’ll go off like a rocket. I don’t like your motives, my dear, but it’s not my place as a journalist to judge them.”
Jill’s reaction would be awful. Hadn’t she been angry after the city council meeting? Somehow, they’d gotten through it, but she wasn’t sure her friend would be as forgiving this time. “I made an investigative board like I would for a case, and I’ve been looking into him for a while.”
“What have you found so far?”
Squat really. She rested her elbows on her knees. “Not much, but I don’t give up easily.”
“That’s one of the things I admire about you, your tenacity.” He thumbed through a file drawer and yanked out a green one. “I did my own digging when Maven announced his plan, and Jill told me she was going to work for him. I’ll give you what I have on one condition.”
Her mouth watered as she stared at that file, wondering if it contained anything she’d missed. “Okay. What is it?”
“If you don’t have enough evidence to make a story—any story—this conversation stays between the two of us.”
Her brow rose. “That’s interesting. Why would you say that?”
“I know you have your reasons for wanting Mac out of business, but I won’t be used as a bag man. I’m giving you this information on good faith. I am a journalist, after all. Do we understand one another?”
She nodded.
“I’ll make you a copy then.”
While she waited, she tapped her feet. God, this just had to work. He could not stay here. She wasn’t sure what would happen to her if he did. He was driving her crazy. And none of his gamblers had shown up in town yet. Who knew what would happen to Dare once they did? She just couldn’t allow that to happen.
Arthur dropped an envelope in her lap when he returned.
“Thank you. I’ll let you know what I discover,” she said, “but our agreement goes both ways. I won’t mention our pact, and you won’t either.”
Arthur rubbed his nose. “Tanner doesn’t know you’re still trying to boot Mac out of town, eh?”
“No.”
“Okay. Mum’s the word.”
“Thanks, Arthur.”
His cane clattered to the floor when he stood.
“Don’t worry about seeing me out.”
He blustered. “Okay. I won’t. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Don’t expect the food to be as good as it is at Brasserie Dare. Well, except for whatever Brian brings.” She opened the door. “Being his partner, I hear the item you proposed for the restaurant’s menu is pretty sweet.”
“Well, when I agreed to be Brian’s financial backer, he agreed to let me select something. I love a good lamb shank. Had my first one in Rome in 1967. I’ll never forget it.”
Peggy smiled at the nostalgia on his face. “I’ll give it serious consideration next time I eat there.”
“You do that.” As she left, she knew there was a double meaning there.
Her fingers itched to rip the envelope open and read its contents on the street, but she didn’t want to attract attention.
She passed Don’t Soy with Me. If she hadn’t taken so long at the paper, she’d duck into the coffee shop to see if Jill were in today or at the hotel, her other home. The door jingled behind her. She looked back.
Maven strolled out. His body moved like a burglar she’d once busted, all smooth and quiet as those long, muscular legs ate up the sidewalk. He swung on his reflective sunglasses, covering up his stoplight green eyes. He wore a silky shirt the same gray as his Ferrari, with black slacks that undoubtedly showcased his superior butt.
Her dream exploded in her mind. Of him, naked, breathing hard, pounding into her, her hands on his behind, urging him deeper as she came apart.
A part of her trembled on the sidewalk.
No way was she saying hello. Her power–walk took her well past his car. When she was a safe distance from him, she looked back and watched as he plucked the ticket off the windshield. He tore off his glasses and stared at her, feet planted on the sidewalk. He lifted the ticket and crumpled it into a ball as she watched.
So, it wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. Would he contest? It wasn’t like he was hurting for cash.
She hustled down the street and ducked into the sheriff’s office. Cringed when she heard Mooooo.
Her gaze swung to the right. Eerie plastic moose eyes stared back unblinking. Someone had hung the stuffed animal by the door. Repressed laughter reached her ears.
“Okay, that’s it!” She sprinted toward the bullpen.
It was time they understood.
She was not a woman to mess with.
Chapter 4
If I hear one more complaint out of your mouth, I swear I’ll stop this car right now,” Mac gritted out.
His nephew, Dustin, glared at him in the rear–view mirror. A tuft of gelled black hair formed a pyramid on the top of his head in something called a fohawk. Other than hair, looking at Dustin was like looking at a picture of his younger self. They had the same deep–set, dark–lashed green eyes, high cheekbones, and a dimple in their chins.
And wasn’t the pissed–off expression familiar? He’d carried a pretty big chip on his shoulder until Abbie had gotten pregnant, requiring him to step up. He’d channeled that ‘chip’ into poker games and learned to make it work for him, not against him. Dustin didn’t have much direction yet, so his shit pretty much splatted on everyone around him.
“Did you hear me?”
“Uh–huh.”
When had the kid stopped saying yes? Man, he missed the old days when he was Uncle Mac, a hero in a young boy’s life, unable to do any wrong.
His sister’s lips twitched. He could all but hear Abbie thinking, you’re losing it. He’d just picked them up from the airport in Denver a couple of hours ago, and Dustin was already laying on the defiance pretty thick.
“I can’t wait to see the hotel, Mac. It was being gutted when we last visited. It might become my favorite.”
He slanted his sister a glance. “That’s because you’re a sucker for old–world elegance.”
Didn’t even her traveling clothes scream ‘lady?’ What woman wore a navy linen skirt on a plane unless she was rushing from the airport to the office? Abbie’s matching suit jacket fit her petite frame like a glove, but it didn’t call attention to her femininity. She always downplayed her prettiness for reasons he’d grown to understand. She was more comfortable that way, and she thought it repelled male attention. Once burned, twice shy. Plus, she had some June Cleaver notion still running in the back of her mind about what a ‘good’ mother looked like—so totally different from their card–dealing one who’d bleached her hair and favored skin–tight clothes for her job at the casino.
“I am a sucker for the old stuff.”
“Too bad the gangsters aren’t still around from its heyday. Now that would be cool,” his nephew interjected, kicking the back of his seat again.
Mac ground his teeth. “Yes, it’d be nice if some guys would shoot up my hotel.”
“Maybe then we’d have to leave.”
His hands gripped the wheel. “One can hope.”
“It’ll be fine, Dustin.” Abbie turned in her seat to give him a look.
Mac blew out a breath. The kid had never been so dead set against moving before.
“Oh, look!” Abbie pointed out t
he window. “There’s some deer.”
“We’ve seen those before, Mom.”
“Well, I never tire of them. It’s a lovely drive, Mac. I know we’re going to love Dare. Reminds me of our place in Wyoming. It’s nice to see green again after the desert.”
“I like the heat.”
Mac kept his eyes on the road, even though he wanted to swing his head around and give Dustin a good, old–fashioned stare–down. Funny how these days all Dustin did was stare right back at him. Lately they’d been butting heads like two rams. They were so alike it freaked him out.
Dustin kicked his seat again.
“If you do that one more time, I swear we’re going to take your phone away for a day.”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Dustin, why don’t you scoot behind me?” Abbie said. “You can see down the canyon better this way. What’s it called again?”
“Sardine,” Mac growled.
Dustin kicked his seat one last time for good measure. “Oops. Sorry.” Mac watched in the rear view mirror as the kid slid to the other side, all slouched body language.
Mac tapped his left foot. Where was his reputable cool? He was a high–stakes poker player, for crying out loud. No one was able to rile him up like Teenage Dustin—sixteen, and newly decked out with a driver’s license and a shitty attitude. He took a deep breath, trying to channel calming energy. He spotted a police car up ahead in a speed–trap. He was safe because he didn’t speed when he had passengers. He looked for glossy dark hair and high cheekbones, but this cop had a granite jaw and beard stubble.
His mind clicked. Someone else totally broke his cool. Peggy.
She was not a woman to underestimate. He hadn’t expected her to nit–pick him from behind her badge. That ticket still pissed him off.
“Here’s Dare,” he said.
They crested into town, cruising down Main Street.
“Oh, it’s exactly how I remember,” Abbie said. “So bright and cheerful.”
“I think it sucks.”
Abbie reached back and patted Dustin’s knee. “I know it’s hard to move, but you’ll like it here. There’s so much to do outside.”